I Would Take a Fall
by SherlockD.W.Johnlock
Summary: Sherlock has just faked his death; John is lost. Johnlock, sex in later chapters, and suggestion of Mystrade (I also apologize for any grammatical errors, I don't have a beta yet so…)
1. Chapter 1

Ok, so this is a song fic, it's Johnlock of corse so if you don't like gay things don't read. The song is "Fall For You" by Secondhand Serenade, I think if you have two seconds you should check it out, it's a really pretty song. This fic doesn't follow the song exactly, but I tried. This is also the first multiple chapter fic I've ever posted (and hopefully the first one I'll finish!) so this is like my first try at an official fic, wish me luck, and please enjoy!

(Don't forget to give me my drugs (reviews))

WARNING:

Yoai(boyxboy), sex in later chapters, cursing, and possible suggestions of Mystrade (sorry if that doesn't fit w/ your head cannon)

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN SHERLOCK. Or Benedict & Martin…I wish I did though. I don't own Secondhand Serenade either...

Chapter one- Sacrifice

But hold your breath

Because tonight will be the night that I will fall for you,

Over again,

Don't make me change my mind

Or I won't live to see another day,

I swear it's true,

Because a girl like you is impossible to find…

You're impossible to find…

This was not happening. It all seemed so fictitious. But there he was plummeting off of St. Bart's towards the cold, unforgiving pavement. Just like John's stomach. "SHERLOCK!" John shouted, dropping his phone to the cement and sprinting towards the man he loved so dearly. He might have even made it too, if that bloody biker hadn't rammed into him. Slightly disoriented, he scrambled up and tried to get past the circle of people crowding the famous detective, his ears ringing. "I'm a doctor, please… He's my friend, let me through," he said the pain leaking into his voice; why did everything seem so blurry? He reached over, still not really seeing, his vision going even more blurry, but he felt the tall mans wrist. No pulse.

He cried.

-One moth previous-

"John," Sherlock said quietly, softly tracing the small scars on John's back. "Yeah?" The army doctor replied, turning his head to see his lover out of the corner of his eye. "You know I would do anything for you right?" The younger male asked, pulling the sheets a little higher over their waists. "You sure that's not just the post-shag aura?" John teased, chuckling slightly. "Really, John, I would. I would take a fall for you…I would take a bullet for you…" "And I'd give a bullet for you, Sherlock, we both know that. I know that you'd do anything for me, because I would do the same for you…" John replied reverently, having turned to face his lover. He softly placed a hand on the analysts cheek, and planted a chaste kiss on the heart shaped lips he so dearly adored. "I love you," they both murmured in unison, slightly surprised they grinned and kissed the night away.

-back to present-

It was all so surreal. It couldn't be true… It just couldn't… But the pulse, or lack thereof, on Sherlock's wrist did not lie; the man was dead. John had seen friends die before, some right on his operating table in Afghanistan, but then again, he had never loved them. He had never loved anyone like he loved Sherlock. He shook his head slightly trying to orientate himself outside of the morgue, he slowly stood up and walked to the water cooler and poured himself an algid drink of water. He stared at the cold, unfeeling, liquid for what seemed like hours, and the reflection staring back had developed tear tracks. He hadn't really cried over Sherlock's body when he had first seen him (It had been more of a strangled scream), but he supposed that it was denial. Sherlock never really seemed human, so, presumably, he couldn't die.

But dead he was.

And that was the surreal thing. This proved that Sherlock was indeed human, but at that point, he would have rather loved a machine Sherlock and have him alive, than a dead human one. He wondered if this was the universe's cruel way of fucking with him because he killed a few people in the army. Yeah, after tormenting him with endless nightmares, then giving him someone who made them stop, someone he could love, someone he could cherish. Someone he could trust. Just rip it out his hands; the universe wasn't even kind enough to kill John himself, it had to kill the one person that meant the most to him in the world…

Mycroft and Lestrade walked up behind John, sharing uneasy glances. "Hey, John, mate…I…I just want to-" Greg started but was sharply cut off by John. "No, Greg, fucking- just don't, ok? You too, Mycroft. Right now I really don't want to deal with anyone's bullshit; my best friend just-…" his voice gave way at the last word and he couldn't continue. Mycroft walked forward a little and placed a soothing hand on John's shoulder. "I was just going to say that you can take leave off your job, I'll pay your rent and bills for a while…" John chocked back a sob. "Thanks," he croaked, he walked away from the men back into the morgue, where Sherlock's body lay untouched on the slab. His fingers ghosted over the dead man sharp cheekbones, the blinding fluorescent lights making them look sharper than ever. It was odd; the build of Sherlock's body and face gave him an almost otherworldly beauty, like he was supposed to be born somewhere far away but god took pity on us and sent the detectives prominent exquisiteness to grace our unworthy and humble planet. That's how John saw it anyways.

Molly walked in a few minutes later to find John running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. "He used to love it when I did this…" John whispered, barely audible, "His hair was so sensitive that it made him shiver with pleasure every time a gentle hand even grazed it…" John looked down with vacant eyes at his bloodless lover and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. The doctor turned to face Molly. "Here to do the autopsy, I suppose?" He asked after clearing his throat. Molly replied a bit frightened, "Y-yes, I am… b-but if you need a few more minutes, John, I'd be more than happy to-!" "I was wondering if I could perform the postmortem." Molly looked even more terrified. "Um…Ok, I'll ask, but I'm sure Detective Inspector Lestrade can help make it happen, I'll call you tomorrow. But right now I need to prep the body for tonight…good night John," Molly looked terribly sad, and John knew that his welcome had just expired. "Good night, Molly…" but despite his feeble efforts, the night was not good at all.

After the door closed and the faint 'click click click' of shoes on tile faded, the dead detective jumped up. "Thank you Molly," he said briskly, securing the sheet/towel around his waist. "The shit I do for you, Sherlock Holmes," she said smacking him over the head, "THAT MAN IS _DEVASTATED!_ AND NOW HE WON'T FIND YOUR BODY HERE TOMORROW, WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO TELL HIM!?" She shouted hysterically. He put both his hands on her shoulders, "Molly, listen very closely. Do. Not. Call. John. He won't be able to come tommorow anyways, I'll make sure of that. You need to go get out that cadaver look-a-like and preform the necropsy. We'll have the funeral and a few months after that, I'll be done." He said firmly kissing her faintly on the cheek. "Now, where's my coat?" He asked (more to himself) and walked out of the room to find it.

PHEW THAT WAS INTERESTING. As far as when I'll put lyrics, it'll probably just be at the beginning of every (or maybe every other, I'm not sure yet) chapter, maybe not one for specific chapters. I dunno *shrugs* I'm kinda new to song fics, I don't read them often and this is the first real song fic I've written… so what did you think!? I would love some reviews, I have not yet had my drugs *hissses at keybord* no new chapter until I get ONE review! So someone plz, help. Thank you so much for even looking at this fic, knowing that at least one person is staring at their screen waiting for an alert (or at least hoping there's at least one person) on my story is what really keeps me posting, I love you my little fluffieh bunnies! Chao, bella!


	2. Chapter 2

Hello there again my little smut sluts! I wanna thank HarryRemusSirius for giving me the review I needed and following/favoriting my story! also thanks to NivalKenival and for following my story! So yeah, keep on going guys, I loved my drugs *_* and again thank you sooo much! this chapter will be really angsty and some abuse will be delivered, so I'm sorry for the sadness :c but it will get better, I promise! But here's tha next chapter! :3

Disclaimer: I really don't think any of you think that I'm Steven Moffat or Mark Gatiss (considering the fact that I have tits and a vag so that makes me female) but I do not own Sherlock. I don't own that fucking amazing band either.

Chapter 2- I Need you

Best thing 'bout tonight's that we're not fighting,

Could it be that we have been this way before?

I know you don't think that I am trying…

I know your wearing thin down to the core…

One bloody year. It had been one bloody fucking year. It technically hadn't been a whole hear yet, but it felt like centuries. John sat in his flat across from an empty black armchair that had accumulated a thick layer of dust across the long expanse of time and stared at it. He didn't have a job, a hobby, or anything. All he ever did all day was think about Sherlock, smell his clothes reminisce in his memory's and watch daytime telly (which was bloody awful). Mycroft had still been paying the rent, mainly because John couldn't hold down a job, _everything_ reminded him of the high functioning sociopath. _Everything_. Medical tools, scarfs, tall men, hospitals, tall buildings, police officers, couples made him want to die, even pens falling off of tables for fucks sake caused his heart to give a painful jolt. And reporters were the worst. They always asked him "What was it like, knowing that was the last call? Do you think he was a fake? If he wasn't then why did he kill himself? What was your relationship with the detective?" What the fuck do you think its like knowing thats the last time you're gonna talk to your best friend, you son of a bitch!? The only one he ever bothered answering was the relationship one: he would give a small smile and say, "I loved him and he loved me; it was undying…" and then walk away. When he had first said it everyone had gone totally mad and it went everywhere. He had dared to look at the Internet and, my gosh, there were drawings and photoshop pictures of them doing things he wished he would've done with Sherlock (like scarfing; they were a bit of a masochistic couple). Oh and the stories…great Scott, the stories. If Sherlock had been alive they would've both laughed at them (and probably gotten horny and end up having sex), but instead he used them and the pictures as wanking material, for it was the closest thing he had to his late lover.

But presently he was just thinking about the man. Nothing in particular, just thinking about him. The way he felt in his arms, his sent, his long curly hair laced into his fingers… He used his cane to pull himself up; his limp had come back with a bloodthirsty vengeance. He hobbled over to the fridge and the door creaked open slowly, the cold air chilling over him like a ghost. There was nothing that looked good, even jam hadn't really made him hungry ever since the fall. He had gotten very thin, pale, and rather gaunt. He had far too many wrinkles for a man his age, his hair had gone even more grey. Every time he looked in the mirror and thought he was a ghost: and that made him think of Sherlock. He closed the fridge and went back to the sitting room. He looked around and saw his switchblade sitting open on his small coffee table. He swallowed thickly, sat down, and picked up the sharp knife. The doctor softly caressed the cold metal between his calloused fingertips and vault wondered what it would feel like drawing blood from his arm. He swallowed again, he had heard of self harm; it was supposed to be a form of stress relief, he slowly brought the knife against his arm and paused. What was he going to write? It would be meaningless to just cut lines, so he figured he would just write what made sense. He closed his eyes and began forming the letters on the soft inside of his arm. He winced slightly at the sharp sting of the needle-like object breaking the delicate skin and marveled at the deep red color of his blood. He finished forming the words 'FOR SHERLOCK' and fell asleep on his chair.

£#£#£#£#£#£#£#£#£#£#£#£#£

-one week later-

John woke up to the sound of his alarm pinging annoyingly next to him, he groaned slightly and slammed on the silent button with his hand and inhaled deeply. The sheets were beginning to loose their smell of Sherlock. Shit. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and very suddenly realized something else. It was their anniversary. Both their relationship anniversary and Sherlock's death day, cruel and ironic, but a sort of sick blessing because John was horrible with dates and it would be harder to remember them both. Maybe that was the universes sick, bitchy way of trying to make it easier. Well thank you very fucking much, you sick bastard…

John got up from his bed and took a shower, running on auto-pilot through the motions, the warm water not registering in his brain as he imagined Sherlock there, rubbing the foamy soap on deep circles in his back. He toweled off and went to go find clothes. John stared at his closet for a moment, what should he wear? Something elegant? A suit, perhaps? Maybe a jumper? It had to be something with long sleeves though, the large, clearly visible, letters were shiny and predominant on his now pale skin. He chose a black dress shirt with a pair of slacks and a black blazer over it. Underneath the top ebony covering he had his little pin that said "lost love will forever be found" with a yellow smiley face. The doctor tucked a small piece of folded paper into his jacket and looked in the mirror. John smiled sadly and softly kissed a small picture of Sherlock and hobbled out of the flat, still cursing his damn leg.

Lestrade ran his hands over his face. He knew John was going to be there and he didn't know how he was going to face him; they hadn't seen each other outside of a press panel since Sherlock took his big jump (excluding the police statement). He sighed heavily, what was he going to do? Was he supposed to apologize? Ah, fuck it, just wing it he supposed. He sat down on the panel and got out the heavily creased paper. All the reporters were there, recording and doing their useless shit for the goddamn media, fuck the lot of them… John wasn't there yet, but Greg decided to go ahead anyways.

The DI cleared his throat and an abrupt blanket of silence fell over the room, the reporters all clicking on their recorders. "This day, one year ago," Lestrade began glancing discreetly at his paper, "the great Sherlock Holmes gave his life for three of the people he loved most…" he chocked up slightly, having known that he was one of the three, but just as he was about to continue, everyone's phone in the room pinged. He stopped dead, not daring to think. Could it be…? He cautiously looked at his phone, the massage said, "WRONG -SH" everyone in the room looked confused, but Lestrade shot up grabbing his things quickly; he needed to find John. "This press conference must be on a hold, important police business," was all he said before he dashed out of the room, leaving behind a few dozen dumbstruck reporters.

John sat alone in his cab, staring vacantly out the window thinking again, for the billionth time, about his spiritless lover. He did *not* want to go to this stupid bloody fucking press panel. Why the fuck did they have to make such a big sodding deal about Sherlock's death anyways? Why couldn't those wankers just let John brood in his flat and think about taking his own life? Good lord, he hoped no one would find out about that… He had tried to end his life a few times but always ended up chickening out; gosh, he was such a fucking coward. While he was sulking and wallowing in self pity the cab stopped and Lestrade was pounding on his window. "John, you're gonna want to see this!" He screamed, practically breaking the glass. John, mildly interested, rolled down the window. "What is it, Greg?" He asked sounding tired, his voice rusty from dry sobbing and disuse. "I started the press and said 'this day one year ago the great Sherlock Holmes gave his life' and everyone in the room got this text," he pulled up his phone and showed it to John. It took a split second to read, but once his brain registered the all too familiar 'SH' his eyes widened into saucers. "And you're sure this isn't a prank…?" John asked slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen.

"Positive."

sorry for the shitty/short chapter, I'm technically not supposed to write smut/fanfiction, I'm morman and my parents think it's not appropriate for a "child" my age to write "porn" so I have to write in weird places like the car, my freinds/sisters houses, the bathroom (a shit load of writing gets done there), and in very ungodly hours of the night, so it takes me pretty long to write a nice size chapter, but please try to bear with me! Lets shoot for two reviews before I update, yeah? Thanks again for reading! Love you guys!


	3. Chapter 3

IM SORRIEHS! PLZ DONT KEEL ME! *hides in corner behind shield and shit* I apologize for the cliffhanger plus me taking forever to update (blame camp)! But it got me a few follows! and about that; SO MANY FLIPPIN RESPONSES! *foams at the mouth* I want to thank Besaa for that amazing review I appreciate that you think it was good. I did get a few more follows so thanks to: bloody-black-lion, Fallen Angels don't Pray, Besaa, KritianLOVE, wikedmunsterkitty (and thank you so much for loving my writing! :D but I had to delete the chapter you reviewed on, sorry! D: I STILL LOVE YAH!), World'sOnlyConsultingCriminal (that is a really cool name by the way), xZhi-Dux, and wendellgee! Wow, that's a lot! I didn't realize this was going to be so popular… •-• but thank you so much! There is one more person I really want to thank, and this person has favorited, reviewed, followed and basically everything you can do, for this story AND Sinful Paradise. And that person is: OutragingChuckle. I SERIOUSLY CANNOT THANK YOU ENOUGH OUTRAGINGCUCKLE, I OPENED MY EMAIL TO FIND YOUR NAME SPAMMING MY INBOX AND I LITTERALLY STARTED TEARING UP *showers you with hugs, kisses, llamas, and cookies*

But really guys, I seriously cannot properly articulate how much you guys mean to me, it keeps me going, it really does. But anyways this chapter is the long anticipated REUNION CHAPTAH! So expect sexy times in this chapter! x3 But I decided to add in some more angsty-ness to go with the lyrics. So sorrieh. Anyways, Wish me luck, and here we GOOO! *does that weird Peter Pan move that's in the previews of Disney movies*

DISCLAIMER: I DONT OWN SHERLOCK, OR THIS AMAZING BAND, as much as I wish I did, I don't

Chapter 2- Want

_This is not what I intended _

_I always swore to you I'd never fall apart…_

_You always thought that I was stronger,_

_I may have failed but I have loved you from the start_

It felt like floating through absolute bliss; an unending euphoria of perfection that would never be gone. That's how John would've described it when he first tried heroine.

It was about 1 week before John had heard about the text from Sherlock, and he was a bloody mess from killing a chicken in the middle of the flat (don't ask why) when he turned and saw the needle; he had gotten the narcotic just in case. Turns out he was going to need it. The doctor picked up the syringe with shaky hands and lied down on the couch, staring at the contents of the sharp object with an almost curious, but more terrified, look. He knew this was going to fuck everything up. It was going to ruin Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade was going to kill him, he'd turn into an addict and lose the flat and everything that kept him sane. But you know what?

Fuck it.

He stuck the syringe into his arm, not caring if he hit a main vein (which he did) and shot it all up in a split second.

Everything turned white for a few minutes, and he thought he had overdosed and died, but he was slowly dragged back to the flat. Everything was fuzzy and his head was bobbing up and down; John thought he heard voices calling from far away, he laughed. "That's odd," he thought, "why don't they just come closer…?" Then he realized that they were standing right in front of him… so why couldn't he hear them right? "Oh well, it's so nice, this floating feeling" John thought before everything

Went

Black.

John was nervous as fuck; he was going on a date with Sherlock shitting Holmes. He didn't know why he was so nervous, he had been on many dates with the man before, hell, he had slept with him more times then he could count, and Sherlock had always been the one man he felt totally comfortable around. Then again, he had never thought the man was dead before they got together…

John had gotten the text as soon as he had rushed into the flat, looking for any clues or signs that Sherlock was alive; and he had gotten a clue alright, in the form of a text message. "Let's have dinner; same place you denied us.

-SH" John heart had skipped a beat when he read this, because only Sherlock knew what that was called. The no longer bloodless detective was referring to 22 Northumberland Street; the place that they had their first case together…more or less. Good lord he was so fucking nervous. The cabbie pulled up smoothly to the Italian restaurant, John paying his fair and all up sprinting to get out of the cab.

One hour. John sat in the restaurant for one bloody hour. The owner knew John and he asked how was doing, trying to be delicate, to which John put on a fake smile and said, "I'm doing just fine." He was fiddling with the napkins on the table when he caught sight of a very peculiar man hobbling to the eatery. The man looked like he had a slightly hunched back, a long nappy beard, and a cane. He also had, Johns heart skipped a beat, very sharp, angular cheekbones. The doctor dashed out of his seat and up to the man. "Sherlock…" he breathed, hugging the man tighter then he had ever hugged anyone ever, he didn't ever want to let go of the man again. "John…you need to let go of me…we have to go back to the flat; it's dangerous here…" Sherlock said, with heartache coating his voice, and John let go abruptly, "fine," he said regrettably "I'll hail a cab."

The whole ride back to the flat was silent, but John clenched onto Sherlock's hand as if his very life depended on that physical contact, with Sherlock squeezing back just as much. They arrived at 221B and John payed the cabbie, pretending to help the "old frail man" out of the cab and into the building. The second the door was shut John ripped off the beard and desperately starting mauling Sherlock's mouth with his own. The tall male used all of the self control he possessed (which is a lot) to pull away from the man he loved so much. "John," he breathed softly, "I need to tell you something…" John barely pulled back and pouted, "Whatever the hell it is it better involve an apology and you being naked while I'm fucking you senseless." He breathed huskily. "I can't be seen; not through windows, not as a silhouettes, not in any way…" he answered caressing Johns cheek softly. The older man lost the pout and pulled back, a small frown on his face. "Why?" "Because Sebastion Moran is still watching you. I've taken care of the other two assassins, but Sebastian Moran is Jim's right hand man; he's to Jim Moriarty what you are to me…" Sherlock said softly, threading his fingers through Johns greyish hair. The ex-doctor sighed softly and said, "Ok, I'll go get our room ready; stay to the floor, Sherlock." John took Sherlock to _their_ room (He had been sleeping in the other bedroom since Sherlock had fell) and made him some dinner. "Ah, John, your famous spaghetti," he said after John put the tray containing two plates piled on with the steaming pasta. "I know it's your favorite…" was all he said before he sat down across from the man and quietly ate his pasta.

"I can't fucking take this anymore," John growled after a few bites of the warm food, practically throwing it to the side and basically attacking the younger man. The slender detective was surprised for a moment but responded back with just as much conviction, his tongue dancing with the older males. John moaned, threading his fingers through the detectives long, curly hair; god, he missed kissing this man. Sherlock pushed the plate of food off the bed just before John pushed him down, his lips traveling to Sherlock's neck and sucking generously. Sherlock moaned particularly loud when John bit down hard on a soft spot just beneath his ear, and the doctor sucked on it gently, applying wet kisses to all the marks he just made. He ripped Sherlock's button-up shirt off, buttons flying everywhere, he began ravishing Sherlock's left nipple. The detective moaned, hiss eyes rolling back, as he felt Johns tongue swirling around his areola his hands blindly looking, then softly gripping short hair. But John didn't stop there.

The doctor worked the other nipple and cupped Sherlock's hard-on through his trousers, causing the detective to groan with want, involuntarily bucking his hips. John grinned slightly and began undoing the belt on Sherlock's trousers, and was sucking on the skin just above his waistline the part where he could see fine black hairs begin to show. He was moving agonizingly slow, and Sherlock was becoming impatient. "Jooohhnn…" he whined, letting the name roll long and enduring, "s-stop teasing; I want you…" The ex-army doctor stopped completely; that was a bit not good. "I wanted- no, _needed_- you for one whole fucking year; you can wait a few damn minutes you impatient prick," He replied moodily. Yeah, John was still a little off put with Sherlock. But that didn't matter right now, all that mattered was that he was going to fuck Sherlock Holmes six ways to Sunday. He ripped off Sherlock's slacks and looked at the detectives prestigious length through his under coverings. He kissed the tip of Sherlock's cock, earning a low throaty moan from the other man. John grinned and went back to kissing just above his waistline. The doctor gripped the elastic bands on Sherlock's uncomfortably tight briefs and pulled down, agonizingly slow. Sherlock's length sprung free and the detective sighed softly, his breath hitching when John kissed his cock again. The army doctor stood up and slowly began to take off his jacket, and Sherlock swallowed thickly.

Was John… _stripping?_

The older man disregarded the jacket and began peeling off his button up shirt, while Sherlock's hand was wandering towards his aching cock. John ran his hands down his front and a thumb flicked over his nipple. John moaned and the noise went straight to Sherlock's "problem." The doctor deliberately pulled his belt from the brass buckle, drinking up Sherlock's appearance at the movement. And, fuck, did he look hot. The pale mans face was dusted with a delicious shade of pink and had small amounts of sweat running down different places on his body. His eyes were practically rolling back as he touched himself, jerking off to the stripping mans body. The thought almost made John come, but resisted and instead stroked himself slowly, enjoying the way it made Sherlock squirm. "_JohnJohnJohnJohn_," Sherlock kept saying like a mantra; as if it was the only thing keeping him grounded whilst he stroked himself faster and faster, his long nimble fingers working their erotic magic. Just as he was reaching his peak his hands were abruptly pulled away by John. "Come on Sherlock, don't you want my aching cock in your hot, tight, arse…?" Sherlock whimpered with want and nodded his head. "Good," John growled ripping off his pants (he hadn't worn underwear) "now hold stock fucking still, you haven't been fucked in over a year." The army doctor positioned his ample length at Sherlock's entrance and slowly began thrusting in. "Joooohhnn…" Sherlock moaned, letting the sound ring in the air. "Jesus, Sherlock, don't do that, I'm already about to cum."

John kept on going in slowly until he was buried to the hilt. "O-Oh, John. Every single a-agonizing, meaningless day I was without you, I would f-fuck myself and imagine it was y-you, pounding into me mercilessl-ly," Sherlock breathed out, the image popped up in Johns head and went straight to his cock. "Jesus Christ, Sherlock… my hand was never as good as your arse. Never…" Their rhythm got faster and John reached around to grab Sherlock's hard-on and began pumping it in time with his thrusts. The room was soon filled with the sounds of grunts, moans, and flesh slapping flesh. They steadily kept going faster, John whispering dirty nothing's into Sherlock's ear making him whimper. "J-John, I'm so c-close…" the detective mewled, feeling the familiar clenching starting to build. John kept pounding into him, harder and harder hitting his sweet spot roughly with every thrust, making the detective see stars. "J-John, I'm gonna-!" Sherlock whispered before moaning loudly, he came all over his chest and stomach, his muscles clenching around John's length. The army doctor followed soon after, spilling his warm seed inside Sherlock, collapsing beside him; both of them panting heavily. "I missed you… so… fucking _much_," John breathed out, running a finger through Sherlock's hair. "And I you, John… But I promise I will explain everything in the morn-" The detective was cut off sharply by Johns lips pressing roughly against his. "Look, I'm still really pissed off at you, but that was some pretty fucking awesome sex, so I'm willing to not blow up on you if you can just let us drift of to sleep. Because I am tired as *fuck*; I haven't had that kind of workout since before your…ehem, fall," John said laying down on his back. Sherlock chuckled softly kissing the corner of the older mans jaw, sucking softly. "Your vocabulary has gone quite vulgar since we last conversed," Sherlock mused softly into Johns ear. "Yeah, well, I've been a bit bitter since I've had nothing to fuck," John mumbled back, his eyelids drooping. Both men sighed softly, content in each others arms, and

slowly

drifted

off…

OK DEN. So one thing you guys should know, I write that little prelude to the story, like that part where I thank everyone and shit, before I actually write the story, and sometimes it doesn't make much sense. But I will now give you my REAL bullshit for not updating. Honestly, camp was only four days long, so instead of giving you ass cut excuses, I'll tell you the truth. I had writers block. Sex scenes for some reason are so fucking hard to write, so I'm really sorry, but i hope that that reunion was worth it! However, it's not fair at all for a cut rate writer like me who is lucky to have at least one fan, let alone all of you, and leave you hanging. So I'm really truly very sorry guys! I still love you. There will be so much angst in the chapter following this one, so if you prefer this happy ending then stop here, but wish me luck on the next chapter! (P.S. I'm moving right now so it's hard for me to get alone time, PLUS they cut off the Internet so I may be done a few days before I post it, this is my frost time moving ever and I'm moving to a totally new state, so I'm kind of dealing with a lot of shit right now. But that's still no excuse.) I LOVE YOU ALL *throws hugs, kisses, and llama cookies*

PS- one more thing I forgot to mention: I do write these stories for iPhone/iPod formats…


	4. Chapter 4

So this is the new chapter. First things first; thank you's. so thanks to:i'masianaru, TheGameIsOnWatson (brilliant name by the way), twistintimeinwonderland, Siryanna, xZhi-Dux (your review was AMAZING; I have been enjoying our fun conversations! *hands you an Oreo* :3 I thought you might like one), DoctorSherlockLove, and mixed array! One thing about the thank you's is that I thank whoevers name comes up in my inbox; so you may have favorited or followed one of my other fics but I just add all the names to the fic I'm primarily writing (if it's from the same show/crossover). That might change in the future when I have more fics, but for now that's how it is.

~「」「」「」「」「」「」「」~

_Breath in so deep, breath me in_

_I'm yours to keep_

_And hold onto your words cause talk is cheap _

_And remember me tonight when you're asleep…_

Detective Inspector Lestrade was pacing back and forth in his office with a cold cup of coffee sitting right next to a hot cup of tea. "And he never told you anything?" Greg asked Mycroft for the billionth time. "No, dearest, I told you; he never tells me anything," the British Government replied sipping the hot liquid quietly. They had gotten close to each other while working on the Holmes case; Mycroft had been the one to make a suggestion that had nudged Greg in the right direction of finding out Moriarty was behind everything. So they kept in touch after the questioning and ended up taking a liken unto each other. "That's it, I'm going to the flat, I gave them the night; now I want answers," the DI grabbed his coat and rushed out of the room, the elder Holmes trailing shortly after.

John _loves_ morning sex. That was one of the first things Sherlock found out when he started sleeping with the man; so it was no surprise when the detective woke up to find John abusing his neck. "Eager, aren't we, John?" Sherlock chuckled deeply, sleep coating his voice making it sound deeper and silkier than usual. "Shut the fuck up and turn around," John growled biting down hard. "Oh, someone's angry," Sherlock mumbled, growing hard and turning around. John pushed Sherlock's head into the mattress and pulled up his rear. Then the ex-army doctor started kissing and biting his way down the pale mans back, leaving angry red marks on the expanse of porcelain skin. Sherlock moaned sleepily, threading his long fingers into the rumpled sheets. "Oooh…I forgot how good you taste…" John mumbled kissing the trail of marks he had made; he ran his left hand down the expanse of Sherlock's back and used his index fingers to tease Sherlock's entrance. Sherlock moaned softly, "Take me, John…" he whispered softly into the plush mattress. John started slowly pumping his fingers in and out, enjoying the wet warmth enveloping his fingers. "Beg for it, you little cock slut," John growled into Sherlock's ear, forcing his head back. Sherlock let out a half anguished cry and began begging. "Oh, please John, take me, fuck me, _anything!_ Just do _something!_" Just as he shouted out the last word the door swung open and everyone froze. Gregory Lestrade stood there for a split second, his eyes widened to saucers, and his face flushed red. "Whot the _bloody hell_ is going on here!?" The DI asked staring at the rather hot display in front of him. He shifted slightly, he was beginning to get an erection and his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight. After realizing who it was, Sherlock looked bored. "Oh, hello, Lestrade," he said, as if the man hadn't just walked in on them fucking,"we're a bit busy at the current moment so if you could pretty please leave so we can finish, I think John and I would both be very grateful." Johns face flushed a deep scarlet. "S-sorry, Greg, I- uhm…" John was scrambling the get the sheets to cover both of them when Greg snapped out of his trance. "Oh, right, yeah, sorry," Greg blurted out quickly and practically ran out of the room.

"So, what are they doing in there, dear?" Mycroft asked sipping on a cup of tea. "Well," Greg started, "I'm pretty sure they were just starting a morning shag…" Greg's face turned scarlet again and Mycroft chuckled. "Then let them finish, Gregory…" the older male sipped on his tea contently, as if his little brother was *not* being fucked senseless in the next room.

John and Sherlock didn't finish (much the the detectives dismay), but instead they both showered, each taking care of their own *ehem* "problem," and came to the edge of the sitting room; away from any windows. "All right Sherlock, what the bloody hell happened?" Lestrade asked, standing up. "Well, Detective Inspector, John and I were engaging in an act that most couples do, one that I'm sure Mycroft and yourself have-" "You know that's not what I meant." John lightly elbowed Sherlock in the side and looked deeply into his eyes, "I want to know what happened too, Sherlock…" The detective took one look at Johns face, it screamed so many things: pain, fear, disappointment, despair, anguish, love, relief, and so many more emotions that had developed over time. For one of the first times in his life, Sherlock Holmes felt guilty. He leaned down and tenderly kissed his doctor. "John, Lestrade," he took a deep breath, "I had to leave to save your lives."

The detective had then proceeded to go into the details of how he had recruited Molly's help with a few fake cadaver's, a thick mattress, and a moving truck. Then he proceeded to explain how he had gotten rid of both Mrs. Hudson's and Greg's executers. "I still haven't gotten rid of Sebation Moran, however I am _very_ close to locating him, it would have to be somewhere right across the street from here so he could see everything, because this is where…" he then finished a long deduction that eventually led to one solid point, "I have narrowed down the possibility of his location to three rooms." "Great what can we do to help?" John asked, going to sit down in a chair. "No! Y-You can't…" Sherlock said, and just a little too fast. John turned around to look at him. "What do you mean, we 'can't,' Sherlock?" The detective instinctively walked towards John to explain, and then everything happened in slow motion.

Lestrade had started to shout "NO-!" When Sherlock had begun walking, wich was followed by the shattering of glass and an anguished cry. In an instant time came rushing back to speed. Sherlock turned to look towards where the sound had come from, and found John, slumped over on his chair. The deceive scrambled to get to the other side of him, and lifted his head back, trying to stop the bleeding from a large bullet wound in his neck. "John, look at me, I need you to stay with me," Sherlock said, trying his best to keep it together; this situation did not call for sentiment. "Sherlock…" the ex-doctor breathed out, "Just know…everything that happened…" the man struggled to get the words out. "It's all fine…" was all he whispered, offering him a smile, before his face went slack. Sherlock stood up numbly, faintly aware of Lestrade radioing for an ambulance. Sherlock looked out the window and found the one open set of glass on the building just opposite. He was going to fucking _kill_ Sebation Moran.

~「」「」「」「」「」「」「」~

WOAHHHH! Cliffhanger there, eh? Again sorry it takes me so long to update, I had another bit of writers block, so sorry. And I know this chapter is very short and craptastic, but I figured that was a good place to end for the… LAST CHAPTAH! And possible an epilogue following that :D anyways, theres some other fics that I'm going to post after this is done. One is revolving around "Vatican Cameos" I've been DYING to make a masochistic fic where that's their safe word, a parent!lock fic, I also had a bet that I listed and…you'll see when you get there, and I'm also gonna to FentonXPhantom fic! YAY FOR DP! But I would like one review before I write/post the new chaptah, PLEASSSEEEE? I love you guys ^_^ *goes insane and throws some glitter to make it rain* (I actually have no idea where that comes from, would someone tell me?)


	5. Chapter 5

OH MAH GAWSH! LAST CHAPTAHH! Of Course there could be an epilouge, but I'm not sure yet, and I plan on doing a Parent!lock fic soon, starting with them wanting Hamish, BUT IM SO NERVOUS CUZ I'VE NEVER DONE MPREG BEFORE D: so wish me luck on that. Oh and, by the way anyone interested in Beta reading? I dunno if I really want one, but if you want to, we could take it out for a go and see if it works.

BIG THANKS TO: bandgeek5100, and wikedmunsterkitty (sorry I had to do that, it was a dreadful thing of me to kill you with xD)

I hope you all have liked this story, does anyone have any ideas for another? I'm planning on doing a Samuglock and the parentlock I mentioned earlier, so look forward to those. Anyways, I think that's it! So wish me luck and Allons-y! :D (by the way there's no lyrics for this chapter)

＜「。」「。」、「。」「。」＞

Sherlock stood up slowly, still partially covered in John's blood and walked out silently , Lestrade attempting to get John as much oxygen as he could. The tall, pale man walked slowly across the street passing ambulances and police men answering Greg's distress call. He got the opposite building, it was an apartment and made his way to the room the shot came from. Oh man, he was fucking _furious._

Sebastion Moran sat down on his couch, taking his gun apart inside the small barely furnished apartment.

"Oh, Seb, I'm trusting you, make sure you get John if you don't see Sherlock jump." Jim said, caressing his lovers neck. "I know, sir," Sebastian replied, grinning and kissing Jim's neck. "That was a damn good shag though," the criminal mastermind said.

"I miss you, James…" Sebastian mumbled, touching his lips remembering how Jim's felt on them. He didn't believe his lover was dead, he just thought he was biding his time for something, like Sherlock. But any minute now it wouldn't matter, he knew Sherlock was coming to kill him, and that was all part of the plan, to corrupt Sherlock and make him everything he wasn't. The sandy-blonde haired man got up and poured himself a big shot of whiskey. He chuckled softly, "and so we begin…"

Sherlock walked up the third flight of stairs and turned left, coming to the eighth door on the right. He opened it slowly, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol wafting out and enveloping him. "You made it," Moran said lowly, his voice rusty from disuse. "What," Sherlock started, and jerked the man out of his chair by the collar of his shirt, "you thought I would just lay by Johns…body and give up? You can go to fucking hell along with your sick lover!" Sherlock said with a fury, practically thrashing the other man about. "What…what do you mean, 'along with your lover'…?" Moran asked swallowing thickly. "You mean you didn't know? Your poor stupid Jim killed himself, took a bullet to the head, like a coward," Sherlock spat shoving him onto the couch. "N-no…you're lying! You…you have to be…" Sebastian said, tears beginning to leak out of his eyes. "You fucking wish," Sherlock ground out, picking up a handgun from the coffee table and cocking it. "Anymore questions about your pathetic boss?" Sherlock said aiming it at Seb's head. "No…I… suppose not…but there is one more thing he wanted me to tell you." "And what the hell is that?"

_"From old ashes doth he wake,_

_Although not always as a snake._

_Though spiders webs, are always wet,_

_Never this memory forget:_

_As I read this poem to, with fires red and burning blue._

_You are like me, we are the same, but one thing I will always claim;_

_The victory of bringing down, an angel who was never found."_

Sherlock stared at the man for a while, Sebastian just closing his eyes peacefully embracing death.

But death never came.

Sherlock looked at the man one more time and shot him once in each arm and four times in his right leg. He leaned in and whispered, "The arms are for Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade, the four bullets are for John, and every character of his amazing name…" Sherlock stood back and let the police flood in. He was surprised they were so late, he expected them at least two minutes ago. "Mr. Holmes, can you tell me why you shot this man?" Said one of the officers. Typical, they were late in trying to figure out where he went _and_ what he was doing. "This man in responsible for the murder of John Hamish Watson and the attempted murder of Gregory Lestrade and Martha Hudson…" he said the words hollowly, finally admitting that John was dead. "John Watson…" he muttered, "My brave warrior…"

~fin~

＜「。」「。」、「。」「。」＞

YES THERE WILL BE AN EPILOGUE, HOWEVER IF YOU PREFER THIS RATHER DEPRESSING ENDING DO NOT READ THE NEXT CHAPTER. Ok a few things I gotta tell you guys, one: I let you off so easy. I was planning on making Sherlock kill Moran and then going slightly insane, and on the day of his trail outside the steps he was gonna pull a gun, shoot one of the officers and the police kill him. I forget what that's called, "Suicide by cop" I think? And all that jazz, so he would've sunken down to Jim's level and commuted Suicide. You are so lucky I didn't do that. Another thing in that scene where Seb is remembering his time with Jim I wanted to add this little snipped in but it was a little unnecessary but I had already wrote it so here it is:

"You remember when I had to go to Sherlock's apartment…?" Seb frowned slightly and answered, "Yeah, what about it?" "Did I ever tell you what happened…?"

"No."

"Well, after business was over, we had a little argument,"

"Oh?" Seb asked, relaxing slightly, he had always been very jealously Sherlock's ability to keep Jim occupied, and he was very protective of him in that aspect; he did not want to lose *his* napoleon of crime to some cut rate genius with shitty morals.

"Yep, I can't remember exactly what we were talking about," Jim said with his gay little chuckle,"but I ended up shouting, 'I'm sorry I can't hear you over my military boyfriend is hotter than yours,' and stormed out…"

That's that, and the last thing is about the poem. If you just want to keep it to where you figure it out yourself, then I'll put my explanation in bold. ***Ok so I sorta threw in a little Potterlock, it was basically Jim saying that he too burned once, and the thing about the snake is that evil is usually depocted as some sort of serpent (i.e. the devil, Voldemort, Death eater symbol is a snake, stuff like that) and that by killing Seb, it dragged Sherlock down to his level. Oh and he still said he was boring (the thing about the angel)***

I just really want to thank all of you for being such amazing readers and I love you all so much, thank you for reading, it genuinely keeps me going, I still take fic requests! I LOVE YOU ALL MY LITTLE COCK SLUTS! 3 I have to come up with a name for my readers, unless y'all cool with cock sluts :3

pa I know all my chaptahs are really short, I'm so sorry


	6. Chapter 6: Epilouge

Epilouge~ :3

Thanksies to; katyushha, Guest for that comment "Thanks for letting us off easy :) I'm excited to be a cock slut! Yay! You should totally do a smauglock story! It would be amazing! :D looking forward to new stories!" Thank you so much! Maybe I will call you guys my little cock sluts xD anyone have any objections? Or suggestions? Anyways, DoctorSherlockLove thanks for following me, Angelsorcerer, and wikedmunsterkitty for that amazing review (that's why I do things like that, for meh drugggssss xD)

And that's it for this story, by the way anyone that favorites this story after this has been posted, I'm sorry, I won't be able to credit you, but I might be able to message you and thank you OR put your name on my wall for a week with a thanks :D I love you all and thank you so much for joining me on this amazing adventure of love and sadness! 3 JOHNLOCK FOREVER!

( ﾟдﾟ)（;￣O￣） Σ（ﾟдﾟlll）

Chapter 6: Epilouge

Sherlock walked up the steps of the hospital, this was it, time to see John. He walked down the wards, looking left and right for the room number Lestrade texted him, 21B, how ironic. He slowly opened the door, expecting to find a dead (or dying) John but instead found a rather pale looking blonde man, watching Telly and eating rubbish hospital food. "J-John…?" Sherlock said uncertainly, it looked like his lover but he didn't want to make any mistakes. The man smiled brightly at him. "Hi, Sherlock, I'm watching Telly, want some of this god awful food?" Sherlock's face broke into a wide smile and he ran to hug the man. John punched out a breath of air. "Ow ow ow ow, _Sherlock_, I'm still injured, I know it was only my neck, but the bullet had some built in shrapnel and from the waist up I'm really sore," John half whined softly pushing the detective off. The tall mans eyes had grown very wet. "I thought you were dead, John, I was so terrified…" John laughed a little bitterly. "Now you have a taste of what I've felt for the past year…" Sherlock looked down. "I'm sorry but I had to-" he cut off looking at Johns right arm, "What is that, John?" He tried to get a closer look but the older man quickly turned his arm away. "W-whats what?" He said, grey eyes not quite meeting cerulean ones. Sherlock yanked up his arm pulling the IV out and stared at the shiny symbols that formed the words, "FOR SHERLOCK" "John…what the…what the hell is this?" Sherlock asked, not quite believing his eyes. John looked away staring pointedly at a photograph of flowers on the wall. "Sherlock…I got low…Really low… I did that, I did heroine, I tried to kill myself, I-" "YOU DID WHAT?!" Sherlock shouted dropping the mans arm. "I…I missed you so much, the drugs weren't too long before you came back, but I don't want to try them again. As for the multiple attempts at suicide, I chickened out almost every time. There was one time where I had written a note and everything, it said, "You didn't come back, so I'm going to you," but Mycroft had popped in for a surprise visit and talked me out of it…" John exhaled slowly, he really didn't want Sherlock to know that, but it felt so good to get it off his chest. "John, I… I had no idea that I would've… I am so sorry my love," Sherlock hugged John tightly kissing the side of his neck, hot wet tears leaking out of his eyes. "I am so sorry, so sorry, so sorry," he kept repeating, slightly muffled by Johns neck. John shifted slightly, so their foreheads were touching and laughed softly. "It's ok Sherlock, I'm right here and we're both ok…" he kissed the man he loved ever so much and Sherlock responded with impressive conviction. "I don't care what anyone says, you are still the most human human I know…"

(「」)（。)（「」）（。）（「」)

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA TRICKED Y'ALL LITTLE FUCKERS DIDN'T I!? XD YOU SHOULD'VE SEEN THE LOOK ON YOUR FACES X3 I'm sorry I did that though, that was rather cruel. But I know that some people enjoy angsty endings, so I wanted to accommodate for both parties, that's why I said "if you liked this depressing ending dont read the epilogue." And about Johns scars, I wanted Sherlock to adress them in that chapter they had sex, but I totally forgot about it as I was finishing, and as I said, John really did get very low, I LOVE ALL OF MY LITTLE COCK SLUTS (it's official; no one objected, so that is now your name) AND THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING! As I said there will probably soon be a Smauglock and a Parentlock, and one more I forgot to tell you about. It's where Jim and Sherlock are together but Jim is abusive and John gets worried :3 it's loosely inspired by the song "Face down" by the red Jumpsuit apparatus! So thANK YOU ALL! You were Fantastic! And you know what? So was I! *explodes into ball of light and David Tennant pops up* Hello there :D


End file.
